


Build Me An Empire

by AplusIsRoman



Series: Children of the Dark AUs [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Mob, Birthday Party, Brotherly Bonding, Bruce Wayne Tries, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Mob Boss, Childhood Trauma, Children of the Dark AU, Conditioning, Crying, Dick Grayson Gets Around, Dick Grayson is Creepy, Dick Grayson is Not Nightwing, Dick Grayson is Not Robin, Dick Grayson is the Acrobat, Emotional Manipulation, Everyone Hates Bruce Wayne, Found Family, Gen, Jason Todd has Self-Worth Issues, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Jason Todd is Lil Red, Jason Todd is Not Red Hood, Jason Todd is Not Robin, Jason Todd is So Done, Jason Todd-centric, Mentioned Ra's al Ghul, Mentor-Protégé Relationship, Murder Family, Near Death Experiences, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Origin Story, Parent-Child Relationship, Penguinverse, Possessive Dick Grayson, Prank Wars, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Protective Dick Grayson, Semi-Consensual Kidnapping, Sort Of, The Office References, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Vicki Vale (mentioned) - Freeform, Villains, Yandere Dick Grayson, basically Batman is Bruce's mob name, but like platonic yandere, familial yandere, if you will, penguin au, references to The Office, which the author has never seen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AplusIsRoman/pseuds/AplusIsRoman
Summary: Cobblepot is nothing if not an opportunist. So, when Bruce Wayne - one of the Penguin's many enemies, known infamously as the Bat of Gotham - tries to adopt a son, Penguin makes sure he adopts the boy first.If Oswald is the king of Gotham, that makes this boy a prince.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Oswald Cobblepot & Bruce Wayne, Oswald Cobblepot & Dick Grayson, Oswald Cobblepot & Jason Todd
Series: Children of the Dark AUs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605616
Comments: 16
Kudos: 139





	1. The Princes of Gotham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title comes from the song Empire by Beth Crowley. You can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8CZO3xA8jU . The story is heavily inspired by the lyrics.

Jason felt the eyes on his back before anything else. It was like a sixth sense, and any street kid without it didn’t last long. He gripped the tire iron in his hand and whirled around. 

The figure standing across the alley was leaning against the wall, lounging like the dirty bricks were the back of some chaise longue in the lobby of a building he owned. His shoes alone looked like they cost more than a year’s worth of food, and the rest of his suit was only worse. Rich kid alert. 

“You know that’s Bruce Wayne’s car, right?” The boy was older than Jason. Still a teen, but only barely. He was big, but Jason had experience and could probably take him in a fight. He gripped the tire iron reflexively. Probably. 

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” Jason growled. “He might think this place is Bat territory, but Crime Alley doesn’t belong to no one.” 

“It will soon,” he answered smugly. “But you’re right, the Bat’s deluded if he thinks this place is his in anything other than name.” 

“Fuck off with your cryptic bullshit,” Jason turned back to look at the car. Damn, but tires this expensive could keep him happy for a whole month. 

“Want me to help you?” The voice was way closer now and Jason jumped to see the boy right behind him. Jason scrambled back a few feet, holding the tire iron in front of him warily. 

The boy laughed at him. 

“Do you know who I am?” He asked. 

“Of course,” Jason bit out. “You’re the Penguin’s little sob story.” 

_ That _ got his attention. 

“I’m not a  _ sob story- _ ” He took a deep breath and composed himself while Jason watched. He smiled and held a hand out to Jason, despite Jason still being a few feet away and still holding out the tire iron. 

“My name is Dick Cobblepot, née Grayson. I’m Oswald Cobblepot’s  _ son. _ ” 

Jason stared. He snickered. Dick sighed and put his hand down. 

“Your name is  _ Dick _ .”

“Yes, it is. Short for Richard.” 

“And you-” Jason had to put the tire iron down to clutch his chest as it heaved with muffled laughter. “You go by that willingly, or does dear ol’ Dad just hate you?” 

Dick crossed his arms, frowning. “It’s what my biological parents called me. And you’re making it very hard to be cordial.” 

“Good.” Jason stood up, humor fading. “I don’t wanna be cordial with you. Leave me alone. You guys don’t even like Bruce Wayne.” 

“Exactly. We  _ really _ don’t like him, but Oswald’s trying not to antagonize him right now since he wants to negotiate for this place.” 

Jason had bent down to resume working on removing the front left tire, but stopped and frowned at that. “Crime Alley? The Penguin wants Crime Alley? Why?” 

Dick shrugged, walking over to Jason. It felt like ants were crawling all over his skin, but Jason refused to flinch when Dick loomed over him, watching him the same way somebody watches a worm wriggle on the sidewalk. Jason hated having to tilt his head back to make eye contact. 

“What do you want?” He snapped. 

“I want to help you steal Bruce Wayne’s tires,” Dick grinned, his perfect white teeth bared. 

“I thought you said you’re trying not to antagonize him.” Jason tried to move subtly out of Dick’s leering shadow. 

“No,  _ Oswald’s  _ trying not to antagonize him. The great thing about being a teenager is,” Dick stood up straight, giving Jason room to breathe, “that my old man can easily blame anything I do on rebellious hormones and the classic desire to act out.” 

A bit of understanding filtered into Jason’s head. “So you guys get to piss him off, but he can’t do anything without it seeming out of turn.” 

“Precisely.” And, okay, Dick’s smirk made him look really punchable. Jason resisted the urge and instead rolled his eyes. 

“Sure, make yourself useful.” He handed him the iron and gestured to the next tire, popping his off the rim. “But I get to keep ‘em.” 

“Got it.” Dick shut up after that, and Jason was grateful. They made quick work, and Dick’s suit got pretty soiled after it all. Jason felt a bit pleased with himself at that. Jason rolled all four tires into a pile, ready to take them to his little hidey-hole. He heard a ‘thwack’ noise and glanced back to see Dick hitting the vehicle’s window with the tire iron and frowning at the lack of response. 

Jason sprinted over, snatching the tool from his grip. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” 

“I wanna fuck with his car,” Dick explained. 

“We already stole his tires! We don’t even know how long his freaking meeting is, we should leave while we can!” Jason glanced at the building nervously. If not one but two mob bosses were inside, then there were definitely  _ several  _ armed men in there too who could hear the smashing of a window and decide to shoot first, ask questions later. 

“Relax, it should take a few more hours, provided nobody is stupid and pulls a gun.” Dick put his hands up in an attempt to placate Jason. “Come on, you know how to smash car windows, right?”

Jason gawked at him in silence for a moment. “How do you  _ not _ know that?”

“Well, I thought hitting it would work, but obviously not.” Dick shrugged again. Apparently, even gang kids could be dumb as rocks. 

“Okay, look, just- just watch.” Jason walked to the hood of the car, popping it open. Dick helped push it up and Jason scrambled onto the car, flushed with embarrassment at having to compensate for his miserable height. He reached in and removed a spark plug, crawling back onto the ground. 

“That’s really small,” Dick said incredulously. Jason ignored him and set the spark plug down, then used the tire iron as a hammer and shattered the porcelain casing. He picked up a shard and handed it to Dick. 

“And what exactly is this supposed to do?” Oh, Jason would dream of slapping that prick for days, he just knew it. How dare he use the ‘look at that sad little poor person’ voice on the guy trying to  _ help  _ him?! 

“Throw it at the damn window and find out for your fucking self.” Jason spun on his heel and hooked the tire iron on the waistband of his pants, grabbing the tires again. He heard the shatter of glass and the resulting gasp of shock and he grinned, moving quickly to get his goods out of the open and away from mob bosses and their rude, creepy sons. 

\---

Dick felt the eyes on his back before anything else. It was like a sixth sense, burned into his brain by his adoptive father before he entered middle school. He didn’t react, but took out his phone, pantomiming texting as he walked and used the reflective screen to scan the area around him. He only had a moment to brace himself once he saw the figure barreling down the sidewalk in the middle of a rare sunny day before he was tackled, nearly to the ground.

Gunshots rang out and Dick flipped the dynamic between him and his attacker, pinning them to the pavement underneath him with his elbow jutting painfully into their throat. The young kid’s eyes widened in shock and fear as people around them scattered. Dick blinked while his brain caught up with his body, realizing that his ‘attacker’ had, in fact, just saved his life from a gunner across the street. His second realization was that the gunner was reloading, standing in plain view across the street and moving closer to his target - who was clearly Dick. 

Dick jumped to his feet, grabbing the boy’s wrist and dragging him behind as he ran around a shop. The thuds of their pursuer’s footsteps followed, seeming to be only just behind them. If they stopped turning corners, he’d have a dead shot. 

Dick risked a glance behind him. The boy he was bringing along kept trying to yank away, regretting getting involved. Oh well, too late for that now. Dick briefly compared the boy’s height to his own. If necessary, Dick could use him as a human shield - but he didn’t want it to come to that. The kid was the reason he wasn’t dead, after all. 

“Over here,” the kid panted, grabbing Dick now with his free hand and pulling them to the left. Dick followed, trusting the kid’s own desire to not die that this wasn’t some sort of trap. 

“Behind those,” the kid pointed to a pair of metal dumpsters, struggling to speak with a lack of breath as he tried to keep up with Dick’s relentless pace. “We can probably fit behind.” 

‘Probably’ wasn’t good odds. But they were already here, and the kid was already moving the side of the dumpster to reveal a hidden gap that the scrawny thing clambered into with ease. Dick sucked in his gut and followed, trying not to inhale the stench. Dick was much taller and had just passed the point in his life where he went from ‘gangly’ to ‘rounded.’ Now, according to multiple reliable sources, this roundness was in  _ all  _ the right places, but that didn’t mean Dick was any less hyper-aware of said roundness as he tried to squish himself into the tiny space behind the dumpster. The boy in front of him didn’t even have to try. It was as if his body was made of straw tied together with twine. Skinny, squishy, and thus compactable. They both stayed silent, listening to the footsteps run towards them. Dick could feel the kid’s pulse skyrocket as he got closer, but he kept quiet. The footsteps passed, and the pair let out the breaths they’d been holding. 

Dick awkwardly removed himself from behind the dumpster, stretching his aching limbs. The kid followed him out. 

“Jesus,” the kid wheezed. “I’m never doing that again.” 

“Thank you,” Dick turned back to face him. “I owe you a debt.” 

He looked uncomfortable at this and shrugged. “Whatever. It’s nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing,” Dick insisted. “You saved my life. If there’s something you need or want, I can get it for you. Do you know who I am?” 

He stared at Dick for a second, and it seemed very familiar. “Duh. You don’t remember me?”

Dick blinked. “No. Have we met?”

He nodded, sighing. “Yeah. I taught you how to smash car windows. You’re welcome, by the way.”

There was a beat before Dick lit up. “Oh, the little tire thief!” 

“Hey, you helped me!” 

Dick laughed as he matched up the kid in front of him with the one who seemed so certain his little tire iron would defend him from the big, scary teenager. “Ah, well, it seems I owe you twice then! What’s your name?”

“Jason,” he mumbled, then spoke clearer. “Jason Todd.” 

“Well, Jason, I  _ do _ owe you.” Dick looked him up and down, at the ratty clothes and the worn-out shoes. “How about I start paying you back with a new wardrobe?” 

Jason sputtered a response, and Dick tuttered him into silence. 

“Come on Jason,” Dick flung an arm over Jason’s shoulder, directing him in the opposite direction of the shooter. “I could use some new clothes too--these ones  smell.” 

“Shouldn’t you report that guy, though? So the police can catch him?” Jason’s worried frown made Dick coo inwardly. How had he missed the little rat’s adorableness the first go-round? He was just precious, like a small, anxious,  _ feisty  _ chihuahua. 

“Don’t worry. A few of my dad’s friends were in the plaza with me, so they’ll ID him and send someone out. It’ll be all taken care of by tomorrow morning, promise.” Dick soothed the spooked little chihuahua and dangled a little treat in front of him. “When we’re done shopping, we should go get milkshakes. I am absolutely  _ craving _ a milkshake right now! It’ll be on me, of course.” 

Jason perked up noticeably at that. Score one for Dick. 

\---

Jason bit into the apple he’d snatched, hidden perfectly in his new hoodie. A week ago, he’d had to haggle Dick Cobblepot into buying him one that looked  _ normal -  _ not that fancy shit that would get him mugged. But it was still ridiculously high quality, even if it was just a bland red color. It was warm enough to possibly make up for Jason’s lack of a coat come winter. It also slicked the water off when it rained, another relief. 

The milkshake hadn’t been half bad, either. And his new sneakers were fantastic. He hadn’t known bad shoes could hurt your back, and his spine thanked him for his split-second decision to save Dick’s life. Who knew it would end up with Jason getting a… platonic sugar friend? Whatever. It worked out for Jason - they split ways on good terms, Dick without a bullet in his head and Jason with new clothes and a full stomach. 

A hand touched Jason’s shoulder and he jumped. Before he could face them, a familiar voice spoke.

“Hey, Jay! How’s it going?” Dick Cobblepot, the bastard himself, apparently did not understand boundaries anymore than he did windows. 

Jason’s first instinct was to scowl, but he fought it back. Dick was eerily close to finding out where Jason lived, and he didn’t want to piss him off so badly that he woke up with a gun in his face. 

“Hi,” he opted to grumble instead. 

Dick beamed at him. Jason wanted to hit him. 

“Look what I got,” Dick held out a keychain in front of him with a familiar ‘W’ symbol on it.

“Wayne… Enterprises?” Jason guessed. 

“Pfft, not the whole company, dumbass,” Dick squeezed his shoulder fondly. “As you know, I am part of a very influential family, and influential families get invited  to these fancy, boring parties called galas.” 

“I’ve heard of ‘em,” Jason tried to shrug Dick off, gave up, and chucked the apple core into a nearby trash can. “So what?” 

“Well, Mister Wayne’s family has attended those galas for years, and I managed to charm one of the lovely waitresses into snatching this for me.” Dick’s face seemed to have two modes: rich-boy frustration and rich-boy smugness. The latter was making its presence known at the moment. 

Jason’s response was lackluster. “Huh. Neat. I guess.” 

“It works for the private elevator to his office at Wayne Enterprises,” Dick elaborated, and oh, okay, that was a bit of something. Wayne Enterprises had, until Bruce Wayne inherited it, been a very legitimate organization for generations. It was powerful and wealthy even before it entered the underground market, and now was a pillar of strength and seeming impenetrability. Bruce Wayne’s office was at the very top, accessible only via a private elevator - and only very special people had keys. Jason’s eyes widened. 

“Your dad must be really excited,” he murmured, suddenly afraid of being overheard. “He probably keeps lots of secret files and stuff in there.”

“Oh, well, yes.” Dick seemed to have deflated a bit. “But that’s not why I told you.”

Jason looked up at him in confusion. “Why DID you tell me? Penguin doesn’t have Crime Alley yet. I could’a told somebody.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Dick said with certainty. “But I want you to help me with something.”

“What’s that?” Jason’s instincts kicked in, telling him  _ danger, run, _ and Dick’s perfect white teeth bared in a way that reminded him of a predator. 

“I wanna wreck Bruce Wayne’s shit.”

\---

“Oh god, we’re going to get into so much trouble!” Jason’s heart pounded. “And for a  _ prank! _ ” 

Dick glanced up from where he’d been carefully wrapping Bruce Wayne’s desk chair in toilet paper. He’d brought an entire ten-pack of the stuff when he met with Jason behind the building. Apparently one of Dick’s female paramours was a hacker, and he’d promised her a date if she looped the camera feeds while they TP-ed Bruce Wayne’s office in a display of immaturity Jason had thought he’d never stoop to. 

“Don’t worry,” Dick grinned. “We’ve got this.”

“You guys must really hate the Bat,” Jason stated, stuffing the file cabinets with sheets of two-ply. 

“After this, wanna go to an arcade?” Dick asked. 

“The one on your turf, or the one in Falcone’s?” Jason finished, scanning the room. The desk itself was already swaddled, and the potted plant by the door had its mummy-themed Halloween costume ready several months in advance. They still had many rolls leftover, so Jason turned to the three window-walls and snickered.

“The one on Penguin’s territory,” Dick answered, using his father’s alias for what Jason noted as the first time. “What’re you laughing at?”

“Where did we see the tape in his desk?” Jason turned back to their first project in thought. 

“Uh, first drawer, right side,” Dick answered, stepping back to evaluate his work. “What’re you thinking?”

“Well, it’s not gonna stick to the windows itself,” Jason hummed. Dick shot him a wicked smile. 

By the time Dick’s hacker girl shot him a text giving them a fifteen-minute window to get out or bust, the windows had some lovely new wallpaper, and strips of toilet paper dangled from the ceiling like streamers. A fantastic art piece had been hung on the one actual wall, also constructed from the same medium, reading “Fuck You.” Jason’s heart pounded as they ran to the elevator and out of the building, but Dick’s ceaseless laughter was infectious and Jason felt it bubbling out of him as they ran down the street. 

\---

“Look what I got.” Jason jumped, having just closed the door to the abandoned building he’d been calling home the past few months. He spun to face Dick, opening his mouth to yell at him, but silenced by a spurt of silly string to the face. He spat out the bit that got into his mouth and glared at Dick, once more resenting the severe height difference between them. At this point, Dick could walk into a college class and not get questioned. He looked like an adult, but acted like he was… well, Jason’s age. 

“Hold on,” Dick restrained his giggling, reaching to grab at Jason’s hair. “You missed - pfft, hehe - you missed some.”

“Fuck you, what was that for?” Jason shoved back Dick’s arm and ran a hand through his hair, getting the last few strands out.

Dick shrugged. “Just thought it’d be funny. I’ve got a whole buttload of these in the car, wanna go help me deface the new WayneTech sign?” 

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’ve got better things to do than help you embarrass your mortal enemy.”

Jason moved to shove past, but Dick shifted position and blocked his exit, a kicked-puppy pout on his face that Jason knew was 100% an act. Dick was a predator, not a puppy. 

“Why do you even want  _ me _ to help you?” Jason asked. “You can do that yourself. Besides, don’t you have friends your age or something?”

Dick’s pout devolved into a frown. “No. And you’re fun, Jason.”

His shoulders slumped. “I guess if you don’t want to hang out, that’s fine. You’re not obligated to or anything.” 

Jason watched him, forcing his face to be blank. No, no, he was NOT succumbing to the kicked-puppy act. This man was nearly an adult, whatever he wanted with hanging out with a kid could not be good. 

“Guess being Penguin’s kid doesn’t exactly invoke an image of friendliness,” he said finally. “Can’t you just buy some friends, at least?” 

Dick’s frown turned into a scowl - this, Jason was more used to. “I’d rather be alone than surrounded by liars.”

Dick brightened and looked down at Jason. “That’s one of the reasons I like you. You’re pretty blunt.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Jason muttered. 

“You’re like a little brother!” Dick continued. “And I always wanted siblings, growing up.”

Jason tried to stammer a protest to that, something about not needing nor wanting a brother, excuse you, but all he succeeded in doing was making his face damningly red. 

“Shut-shut up,” Jason scowled. “Is that why you buy me things?”

“No,” Dick blinked. “I bought you clothes to pay you back for saving me, but everything else - the snacks, the arcade - that’s just what friends would pay for each other to do, right?”

“I suppose,” Jason grouched. 

“Or brothers,” Dick added. And, alright, that was the LAST straw! Jason balled up his fist and swung - and Dick fucking backflipped out of the way, his perfect white teeth shining with a threatening, yet somehow friendly glare. 

“What the fuck?” Jason asked.

“I was born in the circus,” Dick stood straight and fixed his suit jacket. Why, oh why did he wear suits everywhere? Who does that?! And it was a different suit each time, too, all of them worth more than the organs inside Jason’s body. 

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Hey, after we fuck up the new WayneTech sign, we could go to the gym and I could show you some moves!”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Where’s your fucking car?”

\---

“Look what I got.” Jason looked dubiously at the egg cartons in Dick’s grasp and sighed. 

“I feel bad for whichever of the Bat’s employees has to clean up after us, you know.”

“Whatever, we can go to the shooting range after this. My old teacher’s gonna be there and I signed you up for a lesson!” 

Jason raised an eyebrow. “A shooting lesson for an egging? Seems a bit disproportionate to me.” 

“Well, we’re not actually egging Bruce Wayne’s stuff,” Dick admitted.

Jason frowned. “What is it, then?”

“We’re egging his girlfriend’s house,” he grinned. 

“Vicky Vale?” Jason blinked. 

“Nah, his  _ secret _ girlfriend: Selina Kyle.”

\---

Ms. Kyle had NOT appreciated their antics, getting home when they were halfway through the second box of eggs. Dick grabbed Jason by the waist and carried him, sprinting, to where the chauffeur waited. They dove into the car, breathless with laughter as they always were when they finished one of their pranks. Or, as Dick mentally referred to them, their tiny vengeances. 

“The shooting range?” The chauffeur asked. Dick nodded, shifting positions to allow both of them to buckle their seatbelts. Safety was no joke, after all. 

“Oh my god, her face!” Jason’s wide grin was shot right at Dick, blinding him. Jesus, the kid was adorable. Angry spooked chihuahua, meet excitable labrador. A… labrahuahua? A chihuador? Okay, no, whatever, it didn’t matter. 

“Yeah,” Dick wheezed. He couldn’t wait to introduce this kid to his dad. Slowly, though - if he wanted Jason to be his little brother for real, he couldn’t spook the chibrador. Chibrahua? Whatever. The legal part would come in time. 

As it turned out, Jason was a natural shot. Dick’s mentor was ecstatic, calling him a ‘prodigy’ and lathering him in praises that made him as red as a tomato, but giddy as someone on their first high. 

“Guess our next stop should be getting you a gun, since you clearly know how to use one,” Dick clapped his shoulder as they headed out the door.

“Uh, no, no thanks.” Jason bit his lip nervously.

Dick blinked. “You sure? You don’t exactly live in a good neighborhood. It could save your life.” 

Jason shook his head. “I don’t want to kill somebody.” 

“Shooting someone doesn’t mean killing them,” Dick rubbed what he hoped were comforting circles into Jason’s back. “And self-defense is important. I want you to be safe. Now that I know you’re not going to hurt  _ yourself _ with it…” 

“I don’t know. I mean - I’m a good shot in the range, sure, but what if I panic and do something wrong? Like what if I’m getting attacked and I pull it out and shoot somebody innocent?” Jason’s whole body was tense and his hands were clenched in his hoodie pocket. 

“I’m only thirteen,” he muttered to himself. “I don’t wanna go to jail.” 

“You’re not going to jail. My lawyers would cover for you,” Dick assured him, before his mind came to a halt. “Wait, you’re  _ thirteen? _ ” 

“Um, yeah.” Jason blinked. “How old did you think I was?”

“You’re so small!” Dick exclaimed, grabbing at Jason’s chest, causing the younger to yelp and dart away. “And you’re too skinny to be thirteen!”

“I’m fine,” Jason’s eyes glanced around like he was ready to bolt. Dick needed to back off a bit, or he was gonna scare the puppy-dog away entirely. 

“Sorry. I’m just worried about you.” Dick forced his frown into something gentler. He wanted to be furious, but at whom he wasn’t quite sure. 

Dick had been taught that if he wanted something he could have it in time. Anything could be his, his father had both promised him and taught him. As far as Dick was concerned, Jason was only a matter of time. The brother he wanted was practically his already. And things that were  _ his _ \- they got only the best treatment, and Jason didn’t have that yet. Dick resolved to fix that as soon as possible. 

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” Jason’s face soured. “I don’t need your pity.”

Jason didn’t have Dick’s pity, he had Dick’s  _ obsession. _

“I know.” Dick sighed. “Let’s get you home, okay?” 

\---

“Look what I got,” Dick held up the plastic beach bucket like a trophy.

Jason took a moment. “Okay, you’re gonna have to elaborate this time ‘cause it’s not that obvious. What’s it for?”

“The oldest prank in the book, my friend!” Dick did a dramatic bow that made Jason snort and Dick grinned. He stood back up.

“We’re going to make it so that when Bruce Wayne walks into his personal, but very unlocked bathroom at Wayne Enterprises after his meeting ends in three hours, that this bucket will dump a shitton of water on his head.” Dick bounced on his feet in glee like a child on Christmas morning. “He’ll be furious!”

“Nice,” Jason grinned. “Did you get your hacker girlfriend to loop the cameras again?”

“Hm? Oh, no, she’s not my girlfriend. And I flirted with the Bat’s newest intern, she’s gonna distract security for us.” Dick started to walk back to his car. The chauffeur held open the door for both of them and they clambered in. 

“How much time can she buy us?” Jason was frowning again. Adorable!

“Just enough. We gotta be ready when we’re walking in.” Dick pulled out some water bottles from under the seat, popping off the seal and dumping the first one into the bucket balanced on his lap. 

“She’s gonna get fired for us,” Jason realized. 

Dick looked back at him. “Don’t worry about her, she’s gonna be fine.”

“But she’s getting fired by a  _ mob boss _ ,” Jason insisted. “That’s different from a normal firing, she could be in danger.”

Dick couldn’t resist it anymore and ruffled Jason’s hair, ignoring his protests and holding the bucket protectively from his flailing. “Don’t worry! I’ve got it covered. They won’t even know she knows us. Well, me.”

Jason bit his lip in worry. D’aww! Dick patted his head one last time for good measure, ignoring his returning glower. 

“Now come on, help me fill this up.” Dick popped off another bottle lid, and Jason reached over to help.

\---

They were sitting at the back of a family restaurant. Dick walked in and people walked out. Those who remained averted their eyes from where he and Jason sat in the booth, going over the menus. Jason squirmed in discomfort. 

“Sorry about them,” Dick whispered as their drinks were delivered by a carefully perfect waiter. “They know who I am, so they probably think I’m here on Oswald’s behalf.”

“You kind of are. I mean, anything they do to you they may as well be doing to him, right?” Jason asked, glancing up and grabbing at his soda. 

Dick shrugged. “Sort of. If I get exceptional service, I tell him, and they get rewarded. If they do something terrible, the same thing happens but they get punished. So… I guess so.”

“Hm.” Jason sipped at the straw for a moment. “How are you so sure that intern’s gonna be okay?”

Dick blinked and smiled. “You’re still worried about her? Aw, you’re sweet.”

Jason scowled at that, and Dick didn’t understand why. 

\---

“Look what I got.”

“That should be your catchphrase.”

Jason grabbed the airhorn from Dick, inspecting it. “Let me guess, we’re gonna use this as a wall protector for one of the Bat’s doors or something?”

Dick pouted. “I thought this one would stump you again.” 

Jason rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Can you, um, take me to the mall after?”

Dick’s head tilted. Jason had never asked for anything himself before. “Sure. Any particular reason?”

Jason muttered something under his breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“I want to go back to school,” Jason said louder. “I couldn’t - I couldn’t go to school before because my… my mom died and I didn’t want to go to social services, but I figured, I dunno, you’d probably, maybe, uh, cover for me?” 

Dick’s smile grew wide. “Of course. I’ve got you. We’ve got all sorts of people dedicated JUST to forging documents.”

_ Little brother, little brother, _ chanted in his head as they snuck into the building again, waved to the lovely new intern, and set up the prank. It resonated through Dick when they picked out a backpack, pencils, paper and a binder. 

“What grade were you in when you dropped out?” Dick asked. 

“Fifth,” he answered as he rifled around in a bucket of pencil cases, finally settling on a simple gold design with Wonder Woman’s logo on the zipper. 

“So you’d be going into eighth grade now?” 

“Seventh, actually. My birthday was only two weeks ago. I missed the cutoff.” 

Dick stopped moving. The chanting in his head came to a halt. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jason groused. “Mom wasn’t happy about it, so she homeschooled me the year before I started real school. It was kinda cool though, that I could read and all the other snotty little shits in kindergarten couldn’t.” 

“When was your birthday?”

“August sixteenth. I’m a Leo.”

“Neat,” Dick’s body unfroze, moving too casually as he forced it to. “Mine’s March twentieth. I’m a Pisces-Aries Cusp.” 

Jason frowned, looking up. “That’s confusing. All those zodiac things must be weird for you.”

Dick laughed. 

\---

“Look what I-”

“We’re gonna fill his office with balloons?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

“Water balloons. And just the elevator,” Dick grinned.

Jason snatched the sealed bag of water balloons. “I thought he changed the keys for that?”

“He did.”

“Did you flirt with the intern again?”

“The Bat’s chauffeur, actually. He’s around my age. Pretty cute too, I might actually ask him out,” Dick mused.

Jason stuck his tongue out. “Gross.”

Dick frowned. He hadn’t taken Jason to be that kind of person. 

Jason seemed to catch on to his perception and clarified. “I don’t want to picture you making out with anybody, thanks. It’s weird. It’s not ‘cause, like, it’s a guy. I don’t give a shit about that stuff.”

Dick perked back up. “Aw, you’re cute. I guess it would be weird to see your big bro kissing someone!” 

“I-” Jason faltered, his face going red again, how precious! “We’re not brothers, dude. Just friends.”

“Mhm,” Dick winked conspiratorially as they got into the car. “Oh, by the way, we’re adding some of this to the water.”

Jason’s eyes widened in awe and a newfound deep respect. “Holy shit,  _ liquid ass? _ I knew you hated him but holy shit, dude, holy shit!”

Dick grinned, pocketing the bottle again. “Come on, we’re gonna fill these up behind the building and then bring them all in at once. I’m kinda hoping he’ll be there so we can just dump ‘em and run.”

“He’ll probably trip over some and pop ‘em,” Jason’s face took on a devilish glow. “Oh, you are  _ evil. _ ” 

\---

Fortunately and unfortunately, Bruce Wayne was not present for the spectacle their balloons created. But there were tears in Jason’s eyes, both from laughing and from the smell, as he and Dick gagged on giggles and what little stench lingered. 

“I think,” Jason managed, “this is the single best day of my life.” 

Dick gasped for air, wheezing out a response. “It’s not over yet!”

The chauffeur helpfully rolled down the windows, and the two were able to breathe. 

“What do you mean?” Jason asked, the wind pushing his hair into his face. 

Dick turned to Jason and smiled. It was the same smile from before, with the perfect white teeth, and it seemed just as predatory, but - well, Jason didn’t feel threatened by them. Quite the opposite, actually. It was… nice, having a friend that people literally  _ cowered _ from. It made Jason feel powerful by association. The thugs in his neighborhood didn’t bother him anymore. The other street kids didn’t taunt him, though they did stare. The grocery clerks turned their backs when he went in to snatch food - and he didn’t have to do that often anymore. It was nice. 

They pulled up to a looming building. It was eerie, straight out of a horror movie. Jason grimaced and shot a look at Dick, who kept smiling his predatory smile. 

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Dick calmed him. “I was pretty scared of it too when I first came here.”

“This is your house?” Jason’s wide eyes turned again to the spooky facade. 

“Welcome to Cobblepot Manor.” The chauffeur opened the door for them and they got out. Jason felt intimidated by the place and shuffled so close to Dick that his pristine suit brushed up against Jason. He suddenly realized his sweatpants and hoodie, though still in fantastic condition after Dick bought them for him, were hardly appropriate attire to enter a building of this… grim magnificence. 

“Come on,” Dick eased Jason into a handhold, guiding him to the front door. A burly man came from out of nowhere to open the door for them and Jason jumped, eyeing the gun at the man’s hips warily. Of course there would be substantial security in a place such as this. Jason wondered how many people had died there as he passed over the threshold. He clung to Dick’s side. Dick hummed a pleasant tune and ran his hand through Jason’s hair, which Jason despised - but Jason didn’t want to find out if his typical flailing against it would be seen as an attack and get him shot, so he didn’t fight it. 

“The dining room’s over here,” Dick turned them around a corner and the lights turned on. There was clapping and - what?

Jason’s eyes widened. There were balloons - regular ones, not like the ones they’d just flooded Bruce Wayne’s lobby with - and streamers were hung from the crystal chandelier. A dozen women in uniforms were all smiling and setting out platters of food. Dick led him to a chair and sat him down.

“Happy belated birthday,” Dick grinned that predatory grin. Jason gaped at everything.

“This is for me?” Jason’s heart raced. A tray of artfully prepared chili dogs were placed to his right. They smelled heavenly. To his left was a thing of kraft mac ‘n’ cheese - which looked so out of place from anything else - but Jason vaguely recalled telling Dick it was his comfort food. He hadn’t explained why, but memories of his mother wandered into his mind even now at the sight of it. And there were cupcakes and brownies and watermelon and foodstuffs he didn’t know the name of, some he’d never even  _ seen _ before, and - 

Jason’s breath caught in his throat. “Is that - is that a chocolate fountain?”

Dick had sat down next to him. He glanced down to the fixture in question, all the way at the other end of the table. “Oh, yeah! I like to dip strawberries in it, myself.”

Jason felt faint. He’d only ever  _ read _ about such decadents in novels. He’d never - he never thought - 

“Jason?” Dick sounded worried, which was strange, because Dick never got worried. Jason got worried, and Dick always calmed him down. Jason looked up at Dick, baffled. 

“Oh, Jason.” Dick’s expression was soft. It was so different from the friendly predator Jason knew, and he felt a sob build up in his throat and - oh, he was crying. That’s why Dick was worried. 

“I’m okay,” Jason rubbed his eyes on his sleeve, trying to focus on slowing his breathing. “I’m okay.”

Dick started rubbing his back in little circles. It felt nice. 

“This is really nice,” Jason’s sob broke out. “It’s really nice.”

“A thirteenth birthday is important,” Dick’s voice purred. “I wanted to celebrate. If you have anyone you want to be here, I can send my chauffeur to-”

“No it’s,” Jason’s crying shuddered to a stop and he put his arm down. “It’s okay. You’re the only one I’d think to invite, anyway.”

Dick beamed at that. Jason managed a tiny, grateful smile.

One of the women reached from the other side of the table and set down an enormous birthday cake that read  _ ‘Happy 13th, Jason’.  _ She lit the thirteen candles around the border, and Dick leaned over.

“Make a wish, Jason.”

Jason closed his eyes, mind racing. He opened them and looked at Dick, who was watching intently, head tilted like a puppy.

Not a puppy. A predator watching its prey. But something in Jason didn’t feel like he was in danger. Maybe that meant something was wrong with him, but whatever. He didn’t care. Jason smiled. Dick returned it.

Jason blew out the birthday candles.

\---

“Look what I got you!”

Jason grinned. His heart hadn’t stopped racing since he walked into Cobblepot Manor, but now it pounded in excitement instead of fear. He took the box from Dick and tore open the wrapping paper and gasped. 

“Oh! And there’s a second part to it too, but it’s less cool.” Dick reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small device. “It was hard to find a decent solar charger for a Nintendo, but it turns out, Harley Quinn likes gaming, and Ivy made a solar charger for her to use when she stays with her, and Ivy owed me a favor, so she made this for me. Well, for you.”

Jason flipped through the games in the sleeve Dick had provided, holding the device and its solar charger close to his chest. Dick had gotten  _ everything. _ Jason had mentioned wanting to play Animal Crossing once, at the arcade, and Dick had clearly remembered. 

“Thank you.” He felt like the air had been pulled from his lungs, and his face hurt from smiling.

Dick looked like the cat who caught the canary. “There’s one more present.”

Jason faced him, eyes wide. “Another one?”

Dick nodded. “Honestly, I’m not sure you’ll like it, but it’s important to me that you have it.”

He grabbed another box, this one not wrapped. Jason gingerly set the PlayStation down on the chair next to him and reached over, removing the lid. His heart caught in his chest.

“Don’t freak out!” Dick nearly leapt over, grabbing the gun from the box and showing it to him. “See this? That’s a red dot sight.”

“The little red dot that snipers use?” Jason asked. He was surprised he could speak when he couldn’t breathe. All at once remembered, all too vividly, why he’d been so afraid when walking in. 

“Yeah, the little red dot,” Dick smiled. The predator returned, and Jason felt his heartbeat calm down. He was safe. The predator would protect him. 

“You were worried you’d shoot someone you didn’t mean to,” he explained. “This way you can be safe when I’m not there, and you don’t have to worry about hurting someone innocent.” 

Jason managed to not shake as he reached over and took the pistol from Dick, cradling it in his hands. 

“It’s got a holster too, so you can wear it under your hoodie. It should be baggy enough to hide it.” Dick smiled. Safe. The predator was here. Even the Bat couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t touch him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

\---

“Look what I got.” Dick dragged the black trash-bag behind him. Its contents jingled and jangled as he man-handled them over to Jason’s doorway. Jason’s gun hung at his hip, concealed beneath his jacket. Its weight was a constant reminder of its existence that Jason had to consciously ignore. 

“Garbage?” Jason asked, stepping over to help him haul it inside. 

“Nah,” Dick panted, dumping it out onto the floor. Keys, staplers, paperclips, pens, tape dispensers, and a single roll of duct tape clanged to the ground.

“Did you… rob him?”

“Yep. Also, I started watching The Office.” 

“Oh… kay?”

Dick grinned. “I brought jello packets and bowls. The fridge I bought you still works, right?” 

\---

“Why do you hate Bruce Wayne?” Jason asked. His fridge hadn’t fit all the jello molds, so they were putting the remaining objects in the vending machine in the employee lounge room at Wayne Enterprises. Dick had spared Jason the details of who he schmoozed into covering for their misadventure this time. 

“He’s the biggest contender for territory in Gotham with my father,” Dick answered. 

“That’s why your dad hates him, but why do YOU hate him?” Jason asked. “You’ve obviously got some kind of personal grudge, or you wouldn’t take this pranking stuff so far.”

Dick was quiet. Jason looked down. He seemed to be deep in thought. His expression was grave, and Jason felt like maybe he’d made a mistake bringing up this topic. 

“I’ll tell you some other time, okay?” Dick resumed his task, putting the final few items into the back rows of the vending machine. 

“Okay.”

\---

“Hello, Richard.” Both boys froze. Jason’s knees felt weak. They had just exited the building and were going around to the front, where Dick’s chauffeur was waiting for them… maybe. They turned around. 

Bruce Wayne stood across from them, flanked by two of his men. They were armed. 

“You and your friend,” Bruce gestured to Jason, who thought he might pass out, “have caused more than enough trouble for me with your  _ pranks. _ ” 

“Oh, fuck off.” Dick’s glare pierced through Jason’s heart, and it wasn’t even directed at him. “You should up your security anyway. We’re just exposing weak points.”

Bruce moved quickly. It took him half a second to be right in front of them. Even Dick looked startled, moving so that Jason was behind him. Bruce’s glare seemed to look right at Jason and see him for what he was - the scum of Gotham. Dirty, poor, and useless. A waste of human life and resources. His eyes had a hunger to them. The Bat of Gotham was a predator, too.

Dick smiled. Predator, meet predator. 

“If you have a problem with me, you should take it up with my father,” Dick sneered. 

“I have. His response was that this is your form of  _ rebellion. _ ” 

“It is.” Dick refused to cower, standing up straight even as the Bat’s glare stabbed right into his skull. If Jason had been where he was, he would have wet himself. 

There was silence. Dick’s perfect predator smile fought the Bat-glare and eventually, the Bat blinked first. 

Bruce huffed. 

“Fine,” he growled. “But be warned, I am taking your advice on upping my security. They are now armed, and anyone found within the building without my explicit permission will be  _ shot _ , understood?”

“Perfectly,” Dick grinned. “Come on Jason, let’s go home.”

Jason was very, very happy to leave. He gripped Dick’s suit jacket tightly and let Dick play with his hair as they walked out of the back-alley. The Bat and his lackeys were talking, but it was too hushed and Jason didn’t want to turn back to listen. 

The volume of the conversation spiked with shouts out of nowhere and two shots rang in the air. Jason suddenly had the air crushed out of him as Dick pinned him down against the wall, glancing back at the lackey who seemed to have gone rogue. The Bat and the other goon attempted to manhandle him, but he wrangled his way out of their grasp and sprinted towards the two of them.

“Run!” The Bat barked at them, in a confusing twist of loyalties. 

Dick grabbed Jason by the hood and yanked him up, running away. 

They made to go out to the main street, but another shot made them duck in the other direction, running into a dead end. Jason’s throat hurt from being dragged by the collar. He looked up at Dick. The predator’s eyes were as wide as his, his face set with something angry and wild. A cornered animal was nothing to be messed with, Jason thought as the Bat’s thug faced them.

“I won’t let some stupid kids go around slandering the Bat no more,” he growled, raising his gun with a slow purpose. There was nowhere for them to go or hide. 

A little red dot shone on the man’s chest for a brief moment, and Jason pulled the trigger.

Dick blinked and took a step back, bumping into Jason, who gripped the pistol like it was the last damn life vest on the freaking Titanic. He pointed it at the ground, remembering the safety instructions the tutor had run him through at the shooting range. The little red dot shined on. 

The Bat came around the corner. He saw his man down and looked up at where Dick shielded Jason - Jason, who was still holding the gun in clear view. 

“I would like to make it clear that he was going AGAINST my orders, not following them,” the Bat spoke. “I have no desire to kill children, even pesky ones like yourselves.”

“That better be the case.” Dick pried one of Jason’s hands off the gun, walking him around the body and out of the alley, his perfect white teeth bared. Predator, Jason remembered. He looked down at the body bleeding out, and then at the gun in his hand. Dick’s smile, the Bat’s glare, and a little red dot. Predator. 

Dick walked right up to the Bat. Dick was fully grown, but still a few inches smaller than the dominating mass of Bruce Wayne. Somehow, though, Jason felt bad for the latter. Predator, meet predator. 

“If you or one of your associates,” Dick hissed behind his blinding smile, “ _ ever _ threaten either of us again, I swear to you, there will be a  _ war _ on your hands.”

Dick turned back to Jason, the smile turned his way. Jason could have melted at that moment. He was safe. It was two predators versus one. 

“Let’s go home, Jason.”

\---

The drive to Cobblepot Manor was quiet. Jason put the gun back in its holster, and spent the ride leaning against Dick’s side, letting him pet his hair. 

Dick was so, so sorry, but so, so proud. He’d never wanted Jason in distress, of course, but he’d reacted  _ beautifully. _ His little brother was growing up. No, Dick would have to discard his previous puppy metaphors. He was his brother, adorable and fiesty and anxious and powerful. Oh, the potential his father would see! Everything was coming together.

_ Don’t worry, little brother. _

The car pulled up to the front of the house. Dick nodded his thanks to the chauffeur and the door guard. Jason held his hand as they walked in. Dick addressed the first maid he saw. 

“Where is he?” He asked.

“In his office, sir. I do believe he’s on the phone with an associate, but he always does make time for you,” she smiled. 

Dick grinned back. The staff were always kind to him. He recalled the bittersweet memory of his first night at the manor, when he’d tried to escape out of fear of the man who’d forcibly adopted him. A man watching the house had caught him and he and other house staff calmed Dick, explaining the true circumstances of his adoption - how it had been less of a kidnapping, as Dick had previously viewed it, and more of a rescue mission. One of the maids told him how the name Cobblepot was its own form of protection and it had, despite his attachment to his previous surname, become something Dick was fond of and took pride in. He was Oswald Cobblepot’s son in every way except biology. 

Dick glanced down at Jason, who seemed similarly calmed by the maid’s sweet nature. She waved at him and he waved back, likely recalling her from his birthday party. 

Dick led Jason up the stairs and down the hall. He knocked on the door to his father’s office and waited for the stern, but not irritable, response.

“Come in.”

Dick opened the door and left Jason to sit in one of the two chairs positioned in front of the desk. Oswald looked up at Dick, ignoring Jason for the moment. He eyed the stains on Dick’s suit from when Dick had to knock Jason to the ground to avoid being shot. 

“Did something happen, or was it just your usual fun?” Oswald asked. 

“Both. One of Wayne’s men shot at us,” Dick explained. Oswald made to lunge for the phone, likely to order an immediate retaliation, but Dick interrupted him with clarification.

“It was against his orders, and Wayne himself attempted to intervene. But it happened,” Dick relaxed minutely as his father settled back down. He knew himself that the intricacies of such an interaction were critical in determining their response. 

“Jason shot the man, saving both of us.” Jason tensed when Dick gestured to him. “It was a clean shot. The one responsible is dead.”

“I see.” Oswald looked, finally, at Jason. “An impressive feat, young man, especially in a moment of fear.”

Jason sat up straighter, a determination in his eyes. There he was - Dick had worried that the feisty little boy had been lost under all that cowering. 

“You’re the one who needs help going to school, yes?” Oswald analyzed Jason’s appearance as he nodded. “You’ve been a good friend to Dick. I appreciate that. Happy belated birthday, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Jason found his voice. Dick purred inside.  _ What a good little brother, mine! _

“I’ve finished the paperwork to get you into Gotham Academy,” Oswald continued. Jason’s eyes widened. Did Dick’s little brother really think they’d let him get anything but the best? 

“I do have a condition, though.” Oswald looked up at Jason, ignoring Dick’s frown. His father hadn’t mentioned any conditions when they discussed this. 

Jason nodded again. “What is it?”

“I would like for you to come live here,” Oswald folded his hands. “If I’m bothering to send you to school, I’d like to be able to personally ensure that my efforts are not going to waste.” 

Jason’s mouth opened and closed once without making a sound. Dick frowned harder. His little brother swallowed once. 

“Okay,” he said, voice almost inaudible. Oswald nodded and smiled. It was a crooked smile that Dick instinctively mirrored. 

Penguins were predators, a man named Zsasz had told him once. 

\---

Jason groaned, hitting his head with his textbook repeatedly until Dick snatched it away, frowning. Jason fiddled with the collar of his suit and scowled at Dick’s  concerned expression. His clothes were uncomfortably stiff, but it was warm inside while the wind howled away, hailing the continued onslaught of winter. 

Stupid mob bosses and their stupid dress codes. Why did he have to wear a suit inside their own house?

(Okay. It wasn’t his house. He was, essentially, a boarder. But still.)

“Show me what you’re having difficulty with,” Dick soothed him, opening the book. 

“Algebra,” Jason grumbled. He’d been lucky they’d allowed him into the correct grade. Apparently, he’d scored so well on the tests that they went ahead and put him in advanced classes, too - which he had appreciated at the time but now despised simply for the workload it put on him. 

Dick’s smile was sympathetic. The predator wasn’t there. “What problem?”

Jason sighed and pointed to the part of the worksheet he was having issues with, explaining it as Dick nodded along, listening. 

It was nice, overall, living with Dick in Cobblepot Manor. Jason was actually starting to grow now that he had regular, healthy meals. Anything Jason needed or wanted was given to him, which weirded him out and just made him not want to ask for anything in the first place. His bed was soft and he had two hundred pillows. The sheets were washed for him, as were his clothes. The suits were insufferable but good quality and not as uncomfortable as Jason made them out to be, but on weekends he got to wear his hoodie and ‘lay-clothes’ again. He asked Dick why he’d wear the suit all the time when he had the option not to, but Dick had just shrugged and said something about ‘upholding the family image’. And Oswald was legally registered as his guardian, which made Dick all the more compelled to refer to Jason as his ‘little brother,’ which Jason hated. It wasn’t true, so why did he keep insisting on it?

They made it halfway through the math worksheet together before Jason was ready to throw in the towel. 

“Come on, Jay,” Dick elbowed him gently. “We’ll go do something fun when you’re done.”

Jason grumbled at that. 

“Look outside, Jason,” Dick prompted. He did, looking out at the miserable darkness. 

“It looks horrible,” was all he said.

“Exactly. And you know, with all that debris blowing around, people with motion-sensing security cameras must just be shutting the whole thing down, you know,” Dick grinned.  _ Predator. _

“...Where are you going with this?” Jason was more interested than he wanted to admit.

Dick’s perfect white teeth bared even further. “It would really be terrible if someone were to pour water over some pavement outside of Bruce Wayne’s house right now. It would probably freeze, and no one would ever be able to prove who’d done it.”

Jason’s mind whirled, thinking both of how their last prank had ended and of how incredibly satisfying it would be to hear on the news that the Bat had taken a spill on his own driveway. 

“Can we go now?” He concluded.

Dick laughed. “We have to finish your homework, first. Then we’ll go.”

Jason pouted, shifting in his seat. His pistol hung at his hip, a familiar and comforting weight. 

\---

“You never did tell me what your personal grudge against the Bat is all about,” Jason asked, setting the timer and handing the whole device to Dick, who stood on a chair to glue it to the ceiling. 

“He tried to adopt me,” Dick said, securing the fifth glitter bomb squarely above the table in the Wayne Enterprises conference room, where the Bat himself would be meeting with investors in four hours. 

“What?”

Dick got down off the chair, turning to face Jason. There was no humor in his eyes, but the predator was also absent. Dick looked… sad. It struck Jason that he’d never seen Dick like this before. 

“He tried to adopt me after my parents died,” Dick elaborated, bending down to gather up their supplies. “Oswald found out because he had an informant close to him who was charged with sending through the custody papers on me.”

“Okay… I mean, I obviously don’t like the Bat, but why is that the reason you hate him?”

Dick turned to Jason, who was dumping excess glitter into the nearby garbage can. “He told the informant that he wanted to adopt me for sympathy in an upcoming trial the GCPD had against him. Apparently he had plans in motion for me to ‘fade into the background’ after that. After the trial, he was going to disown me and dump me somewhere.”

“ _ What? _ ” Jason gawked. “He was going to use a fucking  _ eight-year-old orphan _ like a fucking tool?”

“And throw me away.” Dick’s face contorted, and Jason realized he was trying not to cry. “Oswald had the informant change the papers to his name, and took me in to keep Bruce Wayne from hurting me.”

Dick swallowed. “I was in a bad place after my parents died. They were murdered, you know.”

“I didn’t know that.” Jason felt guilty. After all that Dick had done for him, Jason truly knew very little about the other boy. 

Dick nodded. “Tony Zucco killed them.”

Jason blinked. The name rang a bell. “Wasn’t he a… mobster? Like you guys?”

“Yeah.” Dick dumped the things in his arms in the same garbage can as Jason, crossing his arms after a beat. “Oswald helped me kill him.” 

“Oh.” Jason looked down at the ground. Jason knew Dick killed people. He’d always known. It had only become more obvious now that Jason was living in the manor. Dick would be called into the office and come back apologizing to Jason, saying that something came up and he’d be back later. Jason would hear him return late at night, take a shower and go to bed. In the morning, there’d be whispers from the staff and from the mobsters themselves about  _ the Acrobat, _ Penguin’s personal assassin. 

Jason had seen Dick’s circus skills at the gym before. It wasn’t hard to put together. 

“I get it,” Jason said. Dick had gone quiet, retreating into his own head. Jason reached out and wrapped his arms around him, making Dick shudder as he was pulled back into reality. Jason continued to hold him. He’d learned that Dick was a tactile person - the hair ruffles, the handholds, and the occasional full-body leans weren’t to annoy him, but a show of affection that Jason sometimes struggled to reciprocate. 

“Thanks, little brother.” Dick’s voice was thick with emotion, so Jason didn’t look up. If they made eye contact, they might start crying, and if they started bawling someone might come in and discover their prank before it reached fruition. 

Jason swallowed. “Could - could you call me something else? I’m not… I’m not  _ really _ your brother.”

Anything could happen. Oswald could realize what a drain he really was and kick him out. Dick could come to terms with the fact that Jason was an asshole and not want to be friends with him anymore. The longer they played at ‘family’ the worse it would hurt when it all had to end. 

“Alright, Lil’ Red.” 

“Little Red?”

“My Lil’ Red Dot.” Jason could feel the way the tension eased out of Dick’s body when he smiled. He didn’t even have to see his face. 

Jason sighed. “Fine, but if anybody but you calls me ‘lil’ I’m beating the shit out of them.”

Dick laughed, pulling away. “Got it, Lil’ Red.” 


	2. Heir to the Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crown prince must be ready to assume the throne. The king's duty is to make sure he is ready.
> 
> Epilogue - both a prequel and a sequel.

“Change the papers,” Oswald spoke finally. The voice on the other end of the phone hesitated. 

“Are you sure, sir? You will become this boy’s legal guardian.”

“Yes. And I don’t take  _ kindly _ to being  _ questioned _ .”

“Yes sir. Sorry sir.”

Oswald hung up the phone, sitting in silence as he thought. So Bruce Wayne wanted a son, and had chosen the circus boy to be it. Everyone had seen the papers of course of the poor parents’ fall. Some in the GCPD suspected foul play, but it looked like it was likely to just be shoved into the back of some file cabinet underneath more important and pressing cases than the murder of two foreigners. Similarly, the surviving child had been sent to a juvenile detention center, as there were no available foster homes to take him. To be adopted by someone like Bruce Wayne - a ganglord, certainly, but a philanthropist with a well-known soft spot for children - it would have been the boy’s lucky break after months of misery. 

Oh, well. Oswald had planted the infiltrator specifically to find something like this - an opportunity to get back at the so-called “Bat of Gotham” for his list of grievances against him. If necessary, Oswald could simply send the boy off to a boarding school and be done with him. But that would only happen if the boy turned out to be  _ too _ unruly and uncooperative. 

Oswald was an opportunist. A child was easily molded. Richard Grayson could become an incredibly valuable investment. 

\---

Oswald tutted, waving a hand for the maid to fix the crooked tie in Dick’s suit. The boy stared at the ground solemnly, fidgeting with apparent discomfort. 

“Mister Cobblepot?” He asked quietly, not making eye contact. 

“Yes, Dick? And I told you, call me Oswald. There’s no need to be so formal if we’re to be father and son.” 

Dick swallowed. Oh, how difficult it had been, that first month with the boy. He kept trying to escape the house as he’d apparently escaped juvie so many times. The house staff were bedraggled for weeks keeping up with him. But they’d worn him down eventually. 

“Do I have to wear the suit? It feels weird.” Dick was a sad, quiet child. Oswald had been quiet as well, but the sadness, the mourning that seemed to linger on him, that infamously turned to a fierce rage whenever he was denied certain freedoms - that had to be fixed. What would people think if Oswald’s heir was  _ depressed? _

“You’re Dick Cobblepot now, not Dick Grayson,” Oswald reminded him. “You’re not just my ward anymore, you’re an extension of the entire family. We Cobblepots have a reputation to uphold, and that reputation does not go away on weekends.”

Dick nodded, sighing. The maid hurried away to some other errand, leaving them alone. 

“Galas can be fun, I promise.” Oswald placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder, ignoring the stiffness it caused. “Just remember… Bruce Wayne will be there.”

Dick’s expression went from somber to sour, his tiny fists clenched at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk to him.”

“A good decision. Remember, he’s a manipulator and a cheat. If he gets the chance to talk to you, he will try to twist you with his lies. Don’t give him that chance.” It had been easy to turn the boy against his rival, of course. And it helped to target Dick’s rage at a common enemy, rather than Oswald himself. Any frustrations Dick had could all be pointed at one man. Dick felt supported and protected by Oswald, and in time would fall into his role as ‘son’ more fully. 

“And if you behave exceptionally tonight, I’ll schedule an extra lesson at the shooting range for you.” Dick collected himself a bit with Oswald’s promise, tucking the grief and rage underneath a mask of mature calm. He was a performer, after all, born and raised. 

Oswald smiled. He was a performer too.

“Chin up, now. People like sweet, happy children. Let’s give the gala a bit of charm, yes?”

\---

“Oswald?” A knock came at the door, tentative and nervous. Oswald was rather surprised. This time of night, Dick would be pacing the house, trying and failing (as he had the past several months) to find an opening to escape. Oswald assumed that at this point it was more of a habit than any actual attempt to break out. 

“Come in, Dick.” He shuffled various papers to the side. He had a meeting tomorrow regarding an extortion scheme, and had been going over his notes to look for possible flaws in the plan. 

The door opened and the small boy came in, still wearing the silk pajamas Oswald had purchased for him. He stood awkwardly in the doorframe, fiddling with his sleeves and staring at anything but Oswald. 

“Come, sit down.” He gestured to the two chairs in front of the desk. “Is something wrong?”

Dick sat, biting his lip before reluctantly looking up. “I don’t want to run away anymore.”

Oswald smiled. “I’m glad.”

“I just - If you let me out, I’ll come back by morning, I promise. I just - I have something I need to do.” Dick barreled on. “You can, um, you can even send someone with me, and I - I’d like to bring my gun, please.”

Oswald paused. “Your gun? What is it that you need to do?”

Dick took a deep breath, hands gripping the armrests of the chair. “I need to find the man who killed my parents.”

There was a beat of silence before Oswald responded. “And kill them?”

Dick nodded. Oswald could understand him in this. His own mother had been murdered, after all, and he hadn’t rested until his vengeance was complete. It was only natural for the boy to want recompense for what had happened. The primary issue, however… 

“No one knows who did it. How will you find them?” He measured his tone cautiously. He didn’t want Dick to think he was against it - he wasn’t, firstly, and second, this was important enough to the boy that it could destroy what progress they’d had if he made the wrong move. 

“It was Tony Zucco. I saw him threatening Mr. Haly earlier that same night.” Dick’s fury could barely be contained by his tiny body. He was practically vibrating in his seat, and his gaze burned holes into the table.

“Tony Zucco.” Oswald sank into his thoughts for a moment. Zucco was another rival. If Dick killed him, it could start another gang war as people fought to claim the newly freed territory. But if Oswald killed him, the territory was rightfully his. 

“I’ll help you, Dick.” Oswald smiled. Dick looked surprised. 

“...You will?” His voice was shaky. Oswald nodded. 

“But we need to be careful about this, alright? We need to do it my way, which means you have to do exactly as I say, or things are going to get very nasty, very quickly.”

Dick nodded, his eyes stern but hopeful. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Good. One important… disclaimer, though.” Oswald kept their gazes locked onto each other. “I can promise that you’ll be the one to kill him. I  _ can’t _ promise you’ll be the one  _ credited _ with killing him.” 

Dick smiled, an eerie mirror of Oswald’s own. “That’s okay with me. I don’t care about that.”

“Then I do believe we’ve come to an agreement,” Oswald held out a hand over the top of his desk, “son.”

Dick reached over and shook it, his smile still shining. Oswald noted that he had a bit of a gap tooth, and set a mental reminder to choose a good dentist for the boy. People loved smiling children, after all. 

\---

The gun felt good in his hands. Dick saw the body slump to the ground. His body vibrated with energy and the smile on his face hurt. 

It had been so  _ easy. _ Well, not for Oswald - months of planning the siege on the building, and then organizing the troupe who would sneak Dick into Zucco’s apartment at the same time, catching him just as he ran to escape to his safehouse. It had all been executed perfectly. And if Dick froze up in the moment, Oswald had ordered Dick’s personal guard for the mission - a man named Zsasz - to take Zucco, alive, and hold him somewhere until Dick was ready. 

But he had been ready. Dick never felt so alive. People clapped him on the back, already moving him out of the building and heading back to the manor. 

“I can’t believe it,” Dick breathed out, sitting beside Zsasz in the van as it moved away from the crime scene. Dick’s eyes welled up with tears as he pictured his parents, smiling and happy. He’d avenged them. Maybe he could finally start to heal. “I did it.”

“Of course. It was the Penguin’s plan, and it’s rare that one of his plans fails.” Zsasz watched out the window, still tasked with protecting Dick until they got home. “Penguins are predators, and this one always gets his prey.”

Zsasz shot a strange, knowing look Dick’s way as he said the last part, but Dick didn’t notice. He was still high on the moment. He looked down in awe at the gun in his hands. What if he’d used a knife? Would that have felt any different? Dick suddenly,  _ desperately  _ wanted to know. 

There was a party waiting for them at the house. The entire house staff danced and Dick showed off some acrobatic tricks, changing them slightly to avoid ruining the suit he wore. There were mobsters there too, but they waved at Dick and smiled, and Dick knew they wouldn’t hurt him. They were just… work friends. Dick grinned. 

Everyone else at the party was an adult. Dick held up his smile, but it made him a little sad. He wished there was someone younger there with him, someone he could play with. 

“I’m just glad everything worked out,” Oswald was saying after, as Dick curled into the couch like a cat, content to watch the flames flicker in the fireplace. “What did you think of the party?”

“It was fantastic!” Dick hesitated, resting his head on the arm of the couch. 

Oswald raised an eyebrow. “But?”

Dick squirmed a bit. “I don’t… I don’t really want to ask for anything more, because you’ve already given me so much and helped me so much, so I didn’t… I wasn’t gonna say anything…” 

“You can ask for anything, Dick.” 

Dick looked up. “Can I have a brother? It’s… it’s lonely, being the only kid.”

Oswald blinked. “Well, you’ll have to pick one out, of course. I can’t possibly know what kind of brother you’d want.”

Dick shot up into a sitting position, positively beaming. “Really? I can have a brother?”

“You’re going to have to do the work for it,” Oswald warned. “I’ll sign the paperwork and provide any material supplies, but keep in mind it may take you a while. You have to be patient to get what you want.” 

Dick swallowed and nodded. He felt a few butterflies in his stomach and looked Oswald in the eyes. 

“Thank you,” Dick sighed, his eyes watering. “Dad.” 

Oswald smiled.

\---

“We believe the hit was pulled off by Dick and Jason Cobblepot, sir,” the woman before him stood straight. Her face was riddled in scars. It was likely the rest of her was, too. It was one of the reasons she’d been hired. Bruce had found that his… more attractive employees were more easily compromised. 

The Acrobat and Lil’ Red were well-known enforcers of the Penguin. It was common knowledge that they were also his sons, adopted and molded into killers loyal to a man that they mistakenly believed loved them. 

Bruce felt a deep ache in his chest every time they were mentioned. They had been innocent children. Once upon a time, he’d wanted to be a father, to raise Dick Grayson to be better than he was. It wasn’t to be. 

“Those two have been a blight for too long.” Bruce ran a hand through his hair. “They had their chance; for the good of Gotham, they  _ need _ to be taken out.” 

Bruce turned to another employee, a man with a long scar running down his jaw and a disfigured nose. “Get me in contact with the Demon’s Head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more in this universe! I just... wrote 1k words over corona-break and uh. Figured I should post them! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, the trick for shattering windows is REAL! Here's a youtube link --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ArUnuEUd4VU&feature=emb_logo


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